


Resonance

by EliotRosewater



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Brotherhood, Brothers, Family, Flashbacks, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hurt No Comfort, Not Canon Compliant, Returning Home, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:33:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21950773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EliotRosewater/pseuds/EliotRosewater
Summary: After a lifetime away, Thor returns to Asgard.
Relationships: Loki & Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	Resonance

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted 05 June 2015. This version has undergone minor edits since then. Originally, this was posted with the background/context/terrible-thing-that-happened being undefined. Still not canon-compliant now, but it might fit between _Infinity War_ and _Endgame_ , if we pretend that Asgard wasn't destroyed in _Ragnarok_.

**Kurt Vonnegut wrote in _Cat's Cradle_ , "Live by the harmless untruths that make you brave and kind and healthy and happy."**

* * *

It has been a long time since Thor's been in the palace. It strikes him how unchanged it is. A voice in his head tells him that it's stupid to think that it would be any different. Realm eternal and all that. Nothing changes in Asgard. Or, at least, it happens too slowly to be noticed.

Thor sits in the room he used to call his own and looks at how it is exactly how he left it. The bedding is stirred up on the mattress as if he had just risen from it a moment ago. Nostalgia plucks at him. Memories of forts built in the midst of those sheets and legends whispered in the dead of night suddenly cloud his mind. It takes every ounce of will in him not to let the sentimentality overpower him. Floundering for a distraction, he looks away.

Armour and various small arms clutter every available surface just like it does at the place he now calls home on Midgard. It would be so easy, he thinks, to come back and carry on as if nothing's happened. Sleeves of forgotten clothes wave at him when the wind comes in through the window. If Thor wanted to, he could come back now. This space could all be his again. All he has to do is come back and claim it.

Thor walks out the door without touching anything.

He knows where he's going to end up, but that doesn't stop him from wandering. All these years he's been away, but the halls of his father are still so familiar to him. Once upon a time, he would walk with his eyes closed through these passages and not get lost. Thor thinks he could still do it. A wry smile tugs at his lips when he realizes, if he were to do it now, there would be no one here to leave things in his path; no one trying to trip him.

Thor closes his eyes and walks. His feet fall one after the other, and he does not trip. When he finally stops and opens his eyes again, he's standing outside Forseti's tribunal. A tall gilded statue stands sentinel beside the oaken doors. How long ago it was that he had climbed that sculpture.

* * *

_Thor was bored. There were people moving in and out of the lower rings of the palace all day. Business as usual. And that meant everyone was busy. His parents. His friends. Absolutely everyone. That left him incredibly bored. So Thor did what he always does when he found himself woefully unoccupied: He went in search of his little brother._

_So far, Loki was proving incredibly difficult to find. Thor didn't even mind. His brother was always difficult to find, especially when he did not want to be found. Besides, just looking for Loki was more interesting than doing nothing. It had never taken him this long to find Loki before. It felt like a challenge. Thor was thrilled._

_He was not in the library, nor was he in the gardens. Those were always the first two places anyone that knew Loki in the slightest would go to find him. No such luck today. Thor barrelled into his brother's chambers, hoping to take him by surprise. Loki wasn't in there. Nor was he in the stables, the kitchens, on the roof, at the Bifröst observatory pestering Heimdall with riddles, or anywhere else in the private rings of the palace. Thor decided to look in the woods beyond his mother's gardens when he caught sight of Loki entirely by accident._

_Standing outside the courtroom's closed door, Thor looked up to the stone shoulder of Forseti's statue to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him (like Loki so often did). But the picture didn't disappear when he blinked. That was really his little brother up there. Thor tilted his head. What was Loki doing down here, outside a courtroom of all places? True, Loki seemed to care about politics, but there were very few boring topics his little brother did not find utterly fascinating. (Sometimes Thor wondered how they could possibly be related.)_

_"Little brother," Thor called up to Loki. "What in the Nine are you doing up there?"_

_His brother did not turn to face him. Instead, Loki flapped a hand at him in irritation. Go away, that hand said. Go away, I'm busy._

_But Thor was never satisfied with that sort of answer. So he climbed the gilded stone. Norns, it was tall. He found himself wondering how his tiny brother could have climbed all the way up here when Thor himself was having trouble. It took him a bit, but eventually, he settled himself down beside Loki. Now that he was up on the statue's shoulder, he saw that Loki was looking through a pane of glass into the on-going court._

_"I am impressed," Thor said. "I had no idea you could climb something like this."_

_"Don't be stupid," Loki said without looking at him. "I teleported."_

_"Ah," Thor said but didn't elaborate. He never elaborated when Loki mentioned magic. It wasn't that he disapproved. Quite the opposite, really. Loki's growing skill with the craft was extremely helpful. So what if the others mocked him for it? Yes, it was widely considered a womanly pursuit, such as mending clothes might be. But was it not important to sew shut a tear in one's cloak if one is to survive the winter? After all, if the All-father was a skilled sorcerer, then it should not be such a cowardly thing for Loki to pursue. All that being said, sometimes Thor wished his brother would spend a little less time holed up in his chambers with spell books and a little more time practicing in the sparring ring._

_When the silence between them began to itch at Thor's ears, he asked agian, "What are you doing up here?"_

_"Watching," Loki said vaguely._

_"Why do you want to watch a trial?"_

_Finally, Loki took his eyes off the window and looked at Thor. Confusion misted his gaze, not understanding why Thor would ask such a question. "It's very interesting."_

_Thor shook his head in protest. This was Forseti's courtroom. He dealt only with internal affairs. Nothing the Æsir got up to was remotely as interesting as the cases that Odin All-father presided over himself. Indeed, the two courts of justice operated under vastly different constitutions. Killing someone in Asgard landed you in Forseti's court. Killing someone anywhere else in the realm put you in the hands of the All-father. Odin's were the cases with battles and tales of bravery. Those were the cases where invaders and betrayers were brought before the king's golden throne and were sentenced before all of Asgard to see._

_"How is it interesting?" Thor asked with doubt._

_Loki glanced back at the window. "A man's house was being robbed every night for a month. Several of the neighbours were falling victim as well. So the man set a trap. The burglaries happened at dusk when he was still out working. He took a day off and hid, waiting for the thief. When the thief finally did show up, the man attacked him, killing him. He is charged with fratricide."_

_"The thief was his own brother?" Thor felt scandalized._

_"That's what I just said, isn't it?"_

_"And what does the man say? Surely he has a strong defence! All those neighbours can attest to his valour! He dealt with a threat to their whole community! At a great risk to himself!"_

_Loki smiled at him knowingly. "The man offers no defence. He feels guilty for killing his brother. He said that he would rather the whole town be robbed a thousand times over before he would kill his brother. He wants to be punished, because he feels he deserves it."_

_"This is wrong," Thor said with emotion. "It is awful indeed that the thief was his brother, but this man should be honoured! He served his people. The court should be thanking him for ending his brother's string of crimes, not trying him as a murderer. That he should feel any sympathy for a man that would commit crimes against his own countrymen is wrong."_

_Loki looked thoughtfully back into the courtroom. He asked quietly, "Do you really think so?"_

_"Yes," he answered emphatically._

_"And if you were to choose between Asgard and your family?" Loki asked._

_"They are one and the same," Thor answered uncomfortably after a beat. He did not want to think too deeply about that._

_Loki pointed to the courtroom beyond the window. "Until they're not."_

* * *

Those cold eyes are staring down at Thor impassively. How young he had been. If someone was to ask him now to choose between Asgard and his family, he doesn't know what he'd say. Back then he had been so sure. He had told Loki that country came before family with such certainty. Looking back, Thor thinks he can finally understand that man. Now – a lifetime later and a millennium too late – he understands how that man could feel guilty about a service done for his people. To know he was the direct cause of his brother's demise . . .

Forseti's statue stares down at him still. Those eyes are unsettling. For a dead hunk of stone, they make Thor feel like he is being watched and judged. It was a common myth among the lesser educated Æsir that Forseti's statue could see the truth in every man that entered his court. How else could every case that came before Forseti be peacefully reconciled? It was the statue forcing people into honesty. That was malarkey, of course. Loki had been in that courtroom before. And if Loki had been in there, then it was stone-cold fact that lies had been told within those walls.

Thor begins to walk away from the doors. He feels the stone eyes follow him, seeing, knowing.

Sometimes Thor thinks he will never stop feeling like a man on trial.

Since he is close, Thor heads for the gardens. They're huge, the gardens. Over several acres, every variety of plant – from weed to exotic flower – grows. A part of him is filled with trepidation to go there again. Will it overpower him? Will being among those familiar trees that watched him grow up crack his resolve? It is not that Thor does not want to return home. More accurately, he does not feel that he is ready to be here permanently. So much has happened. It would be difficult to leave the simple life he built for himself anyway.

Midgard has been his home for so long now. Not home, he thinks. Midgard hasn't been a home for several years. And it's true. That realm hasn't felt like home since Jane and all his friends died. It used to make Thor angry. Jane didn't have to die. He could have brought her — years before anything had a chance to go wrong— to the very garden he's headed to now, and she could have lived forever by his side. He had even asked her if she would like to do that.

Jane had said no. She didn't want to be immortal. There were several long conversations held between the two of them about the topic. In the end, Jane said that she could not give up everything she had on Earth to live among the Æsir (who no doubt would think less of her). She looked into Thor's eyes and said she couldn't live forever after everyone she knew had passed.

For a mortal, grief has an ending. There is a statute of limitations on mourning. No matter how well-adjusted one is after a loss, the grief never really goes away until that one is dead and gone with all the rest. Jane said that being like Thor, living indefinitely, would be impossible. There would be no end to her grief.

And how that grief has piled up.

Time wasn't nearly long enough. Thor isn't sure why he remains on Midgard now. Jane has long since passed. All his friends are gone; each one leaving him one at a time. Thor has seen an entire population rise and fall on Midgard. But he still remains there. He supposes that he still has friends there. There are several Midgardians he likes very much. But none of them are the reason he went there in the first place. Now he is beginning to see what Jane meant about mounting grief. The mortals have such brief lives. Thor finds himself less and less inclined to make friends with them. They die so often. It hurts to lose them. He carries the weight of every person he ever met and loved on Midgard in his chest. It is almost worth it to reclaim Asgard as his home because then he wouldn't have to face the possibility of losing another friend for a very long time.

Darkness reigns in the garden of his mother. It feels bigger than it used to. Perhaps it is due to the wildness of the place. Less attention is being paid to the grounds these days. Thor thinks he likes the lack of restraint about the place. The rogue vines and unkempt shrubs seem to radiate freedom. A plant is not meant to grow in only a certain arrangement. 'Manicured' is not a plant's natural state. It is not anything's natural state. Despite the loneliness and lack of attention, he thinks he feels more life here in the gardens than in any other part of the palace.

As if on clouds, Thor lets his feet take him into the walking trails. The grounds here might as well be a maze. But despite the time away, Thor remembers the paths. Not even the extreme height and thickness that the hedgerows have obtained can obscure his memories. At the end of the trails, he knows, he'll come face-to-face with the forest. A branch brushes its leaves against his cheek, soft as a kiss.

* * *

_The fire hadn't quite burned itself out. The glowing embers gave off enough light for Thor to see if anyone might be approaching. He pulled up a handful of dry grass and let it fall into the pit. They ignited quickly. One of his hands played absentmindedly with the edge of the dressing around his forearm while the other had a hold on Loki's ankle. Thor looked away from the dying fire and to his brother. Norns, did he look young when he slept._

_Volstagg's snore broke the silence of the night. Thor's eyes turned to his friend for a moment before returning to his brother. There wasn't enough light for him to see the wounds that he knew covered Loki. And Thor was thankful for that. More thankful than he was that there wasn't a looking glass around for him to see himself in. All the reasons he had had for why trying to steal gold from a dragon was a good idea were suddenly deserting him. Looking at all of his companions, Thor cursed himself. They could have been killed, each one of them. They nearly had! Each had paid for their loot with a pound of flesh._

_Perhaps more than just a pound, Thor thought when he glanced back down at Loki._

_His little brother hadn't, of course, taken any treasure from the dragon like the rest of them had. Loki had no use for gold. At least that was what he said. Fandral had tried to tell him that none of them truly needed it, but it would be necessary to prove to others that they actually had faced off with and stolen from a dragon. When they told the story at the feast upon their return, Fandral said, they would show their hard-won dragon-gold to the waiting crowd. He had gone on to describe how everyone would react and the girls would swoon at their bravery. Loki had looked at him very doubtfully. In the end, he was unmoved and did not take any gold._

_No, Loki settled for saving them from the fiery hell they got themselves into. The dragon had not taken kindly to being stolen from. How long had they run away from that beast? Too long. Thor's legs still burned from the effort. When they could not run any further, they had to stop and attempt to fight it. Each and every one of them was covered in burns and soot. Thor was tiring after so long and knew that he would not be able to slay the dragon. Had it not been for Loki, they all would have met death by dragonfire. He teleported them away one by one. (He had not yet mastered mass-teleportation. When Thor told him that it would be very convenient for him to learn this, Loki had said he was not a carriage.) Thor was the last to be harried away, as all the others did not possess his strength in battle. Loki had prioritized._

_When they stepped out from between Yggdrasil's branches and into this forest on Vanaheim, Thor had complained about being forced to abandon the fight to cover up his relief that he no longer had to fight it. Loki's nose was bleeding and his legs buckled. The exertion of the fight and the taxing of his seidr rendered him completely unconscious. Thor caught him before he could fall. A quick glance at his companions granted Thor the wisdom to say, "Let's rest here for the night."_

_None complained. So they set up camp and tended to each other's wounds as best they could. Loki didn't stir during all of this and Thor was glad. If he had been awake it would have been a thousand times more difficult to dress his wounds. For some reason, Loki refused any help when it came to injury, always insisting that he could take care of himself. Thor knew that his brother had studied healing magic and likely could take care of the burns. He also knew that Loki only ever passed out like he had when he drained his last reserves. Even if he were awake, Thor knew he wouldn't have the energy to execute the spell. They would be lucky if Loki could walk come the morning._

_Hopefully, they wouldn't have to go far. They only needed to make it to the edge of the wood, and Heimdall would be able to summon them home with the Bifröst._

_Loki shifted under Thor's hand, bringing him back to his senses. Big eyes blinked at him in the semi-dark._

_Loki sighed heavily. "I passed out," he said quietly._

_Thor patted his ankle twice and didn't let go. "Be still, brother. You overexerted yourself."_

_"I'm fine," he said. Loki sat up despite Thor's disapproving look. "It's not as if it hasn't happened before."_

_No longer with a steady hold on his brother, Thor put an arm around Loki's shoulders and pulled him tightly to his chest. He never liked seeing his brother like that, all beat up and unconscious. Thor was possessive of his brother and he knew it. The only one allowed to beat Loki into submission was Thor; not anyone else in the universe. Not a dragon, not their parents, not even Loki's magic was allowed to make Loki ill unless it was prepared to suffer Thor's wrath (which was stupid because Loki and his seidr were the same thing). It wasn't fair of him, Thor knew that. Loki should be allowed to fight his own battles. He'd once accused Thor of being smothering. But it wasn't like that. Well, it didn't feel that way to Thor. One did not exist without the other. Protecting Loki gave Thor purpose. And Thor liked feeling like he was needed._

_After a few second of being smashed into Thor, Loki said, "That's quite enough of this," and started to struggle against Thor's unyielding hold. It didn't take him long to realize it was futile to do so. Loki sighed and sagged against his brother, using his entire body to push against him. Let Thor's arm grow numb from the pressure for all Loki cared. "This is ridiculous."_

_Thor hummed in response with amusement. "You should not scare me as you did and I would not have to assure myself that you are unharmed this way."_

_"You could have just asked me."_

_"You would lie."_

_"Naturally." There is silence for a moment, then Loki asked, "And what would you do if I was harmed?"_

_"Tend to your wounds and then exact my revenge on whomever it was that dared attack you, naturally."_

_"Naturally," Loki echoed with distaste. "In this hypothetical case, would it not be your fault that I was harmed? As it was you who insisted that I would be sorry if I did not come with you. And I had told you over and over that I did not care for meeting dragons or stealing their gold. And it was you that said I was lying as always and physically dragged me away with you to the Bifröst. I would only be in a position to be harmed because of you and your foolhardy endeavours."_

_"Don't be like this. You know what I meant. You twist my words."_

_Loki laughed. Thor felt it reverberate through him. "So what you meant to say was that, if I had been hurt by the dragon, you would somehow have the renewed strength to slay it? From where I was standing, you did not look like you could keep fighting for another minute."_

_"You doubt I would slay a dragon for you?"_

_Loki shook his head into Thor's shoulder. "Not that you have the will, no. I doubt you could see it through. Do not make promises you cannot keep, brother. It shall be your undoing."_

_Thor was indignant. Inside, his temper was building. Nothing irked him quite as much as someone doubting his abilities. The internal rage was interrupted when he heard Loki make a pained sound. Thor hadn't realized his grip on his brother has tightened in proportion to his anger. Immediately, he felt guilty and loosed his grip. Loki took full advantage of that and escaped the embrace._

_"Are you – . . . ?" Thor began but was cut off by Loki assuring him he was fine._

_"I should know better than to antagonize you when I am within arm's reach, let alone already in your grasp."_

_"You are well, though, aren't you?" Thor asked._

_"I can fix it all once my seidr is restored," Loki said dismissively._

_"I fear one day there will be nothing you cannot fix yourself." Thor hoped he never lived to see the day when Loki no longer needed him._

* * *

Thor stands before the forest. They used to hunt in there. He remembers the first time he ever went hunting with his father. It was just the two of them that first time. Not another person accompanied them, not even the guard. Thor hadn't killed anything that time. Odin had decided they would only use bows. Thor pretended like he didn't know it was only because Odin did not think Thor was ready to fight in close quarters with a deadly beast. The bow wasn't either's weapon of choice. Still, Odin was capable enough to fell two great birds. They ate the wildfowl that night. Thor snuck into the kitchens as they were preparing the meat and stole a feather from each of the carcasses.

Looking into the forest now, Thor smiles at his sentimentality. Those feathers are still in his bedchamber somewhere, he's sure. All at once, he feels heavy. Thor settles down on the grass between the trails' hedgerows and the woods. Wind whispers through the leaves but he doesn't understand the words. He wants so badly to come home. But he knows that place doesn't exist anymore. The world where he used to hunt for days and come back to a golden city is no longer real. Home – a true home as Thor knows it – is lost to him forever. If he came back to Asgard he knows that he'd feel forever that something was missing. And that feeling – that missing – he will carry with him his entire life, however long that turns out to be.

So perhaps that is why he stays away from the halls of his father even after those he held dearest on Midgard have gone. He would rather suffer the endless losses of his mortal friends than come face to face with what is missing in the place he once called home.

The wind whispers in the leaves again and Thor thinks they're talking about him the same way Forseti's statue looked upon him. He lies in the grass and tries to understand what words the wind is bearing, but he knows he'll never find out. All those years wandering in the woods and he never learned to listen to it.

When he can take no more whispering, Thor gets to his feet and heads back toward the gardens. Fireflies that he had not noticed before light his way. They glow brighter than usual against the darkness of the garden, like little beacons. When he was small, Thor used to sneak out here with Loki and capture the glowing insects. His brother was hardly old enough to walk then and was still young enough to listen to whatever Thor told him to do. Loki would stare in awe when Thor showed him the glowing bugs cupped in his hands.

_What are they?_ Loki had asked the first time the two of them had snuck out.

_Fireflies_ , Thor had told him. _Lightning bugs._

_Light-ling bugs?_ Loki had slurred. _Like your storms?_

That had made Thor chuckle. _Not quite the same. Here, hold one._

Loki had jerked back from Thor's outstretched hands. _No! They'll shock! Or burn!_

_What? No, they won't. Fireflies can't shock or burn you. They don't even bite._

But Loki had remained stubbornly set on the matter. He and Thor had sat together and watched their lights flick on and off. Once, when Loki went through a week of violent nightmares, Thor filled a glass jar up with fireflies and put it in his little brother's bedchamber. Somehow – maybe Loki thrashed about during a nightmare and hit it, or maybe he did it on purpose – the jar was smashed and the fireflies flew around the room just as they did in the garden. The last time Thor was in Loki's bedchamber there were still little lights glowing on and off about the ceiling. Thor always meant to ask him if those were actually fireflies or if they were just some charm Loki had placed on the room.

Without realizing it, Thor finds himself in the dining hall. Not the big one where the royal family ate on a dais before the lords and ladies, but the private one. He can't remember the last time it was used by just the immediate family. When was the last time the four of them – Odin, Frigga, Loki, and Thor – sat down together? Had they ever sat down, just the four of them? There was always someone else there or someone missing in all the instances Thor can recall. His uncles were there, or Odin was too busy, or Loki was ill again. More often than not, though, Thor was the one off on another adventure with the Warriors Three and Sif. He was the reason there weren't more family dinners. Odin couldn't control how busy he'd be any more than Loki could control when he'd fall ill. But Thor decided when he would go off and explore. If he hadn't been so ambitious, would his family have been closer? Would all that had happened still have come to pass?

It's stupid to think this way. None of this can be undone or redone. Time is unforgiving that way. Still, Thor can't help hoping. There are so many things he wishes he could take back. He sits down in the chair that he'd always claimed for himself. Force of habit, he supposes.

Now that he's sitting here, he can almost feel where Loki should be, where Odin and his mother would sit down. His father is always at the head of the table in all Thor's memories. Frigga is always at the other end. Thor could never bring himself to think of it as the foot of the table. To him, it was always 'the other head' whenever his mother was sitting there. And Loki would be on his right. No matter how many other guests would be dining with them, Loki was always to the right of Thor. If there ever truly was a time when only the four of them ate together, Thor knows that his brother was beside him. Even if that left one side of the table empty and unbalanced, Loki was at his side.

Thor wonders if Loki sat there because he wanted to or because he had to.

_The answer_ , Thor thinks, _makes all the difference_.

* * *

_Walking by the kitchens, Thor heard a great crash. He stopped and listened. Someone was definitely moving around in there. He glanced out the windows even though he knew it was much too late for anyone to be making such racket in there. In all honesty, Thor was a bit tipsy. Not drunk. It takes more than a few drinks at the alehouse to make the God of Thunder well and truly wasted. So even though he was without a proper weapon, he boldly entered the kitchen. The sight within made him blink several times and reevaluate how drunk he might be._

_"Loki?" he asked just to be sure. "What are you doing?"_

_His brother looked up at him from amid his mess. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm drunk and I'm hungry."_

_Thor laughed. "You must be drunk if you're being so blunt."_

_"Yes, well. Don't just stand there, you oaf. Help me."_

_So he did. Entering the room fully, he saw for the first time just how big the mess Loki had made was. Almost the entire place was turned over. "Um, brother? What exactly are you looking for?"_

_"Anything," Loki said as he dug through shelves upon shelves of spices and cured meat._

_"Are you saying you don't know what you're looking for?"_

_"I'll know it when I see it. Ah!" Loki emerged with a great jug of mead and a smile on his face. Without another word, he began to leave._

_Thor trailed after him only a little bit confused. "I thought you said you were hungry."_

_"Hungry, thirsty. They're the same, really."_

_"Just how much have you had to drink?"_

_"Then pick up that venison for me, will you? Drink when I'm hungry; eat when I'm thirsty. You know what I meant."_

_Thor did as he suggested, and then followed his brother out of the kitchen and down the long halls. Under any other circumstances, he might have asked Loki where they were going with a gallon of mead and a sizable amount of venison. But, as it was, he was just drunk enough not to care for the details. (Thor was nowhere near as drunk as Loki; that much he knew for sure.) After a long trek through the palace, they came to rest in an unused bedchamber in the private rings._

_Loki nodded to the hearth where a fire sprang to life as if it had been there all the while. Things usually never ended well when Loki did magic while inebriated. Thor made a note to remind his brother of that. The two of them sat down in the floor before the crackling hearth. Neither spoke for a while. Loki struggled to get the cork out of the jug, but he eventually pulled it out. He needed two hands to lift and drink from the jug._

_Thor quirked an eyebrow at his brother. He was amused._

_Loki set the jug down and pushed it closer to Thor. "It's good," he said._

_That was practically an invitation by Loki's standards. Thor didn't waste any time picking up the jug (one-handed) and taking a drink. It was good. By the time Thor set it down again, Loki was ripping off chunks of venison with his bare hands._

_"Is that good as well?" Thor teased._

_Loki shrugged._

_They spent a good while trading the mead between themselves and picking at the meat. There weren't many words shared, but Thor didn't feel the need to fill the air with them. It was rare that they ever had something as companionable as the silence they shared now. Thor was hesitant to break it. In the end, it was Loki who spoke first._

_"Where have you been?"_

_"Huh?"_

_"I said, where have you been? You're drunk. What well were you and your friends dipping your cups in?"_

_There were several things Thor wanted to object to in that statement, but he didn't give voice to any of them. He shrugged. "I do not recall. Some place Fandral assured me had the most beautiful women in all the realms. It did not."_

_Loki snorted as he drank. Wiping the back of his hand over his lips, he said, "Beautiful women do not waste their time in bars."_

_"Oh?" Thor begged to differ._

_"Yes. Pretty women spend their time waiting for oafs to notice them in bars."_

_"There doesn't seem to be much of a difference between 'beautiful' and 'pretty.'"_

_"Oh, there's a huge difference. Pretty is fleeting. Pretty can be faked with the right glamour. Beautiful is natural. Beautiful never fades, it only changes shape."_

_"And where are these beautiful women, then?"_

_"I'll let you know when I find them."_

_Thor chuckled at that. "Where were you? You hardly ever drink to drunkenness. What caused it this time?"_

_Loki glanced sidelong at Thor with eyes twinkling with mischief. "Do I need a reason?"_

_"You? Yes. There is always a reason. What? Did you get into another magic pissing contest with Lady Sigyn?"_

_"No," Loki denied. He added quickly, "And they are not pissing contests. There is no contest between the two of us."_

_"But of course."_

_"Since you asked," Loki said in a tone of voice that suggested a return to the original question, "my ongoing struggle with Lady Sigyn to be the most-hated person in Asgard has nothing to do with my current state."_

_When he was sober, it was always Thor's habit to deny that Loki was hated by their people. But since he was not sober now, Thor did not tell that lie. Instead, he said, "Then what is it?"_

_"Nothing."_

_Thor rolled his eyes. "Tell me, you liar." He threw a piece of venison to emphasize his impatience._

_"I do not lie for once. There was no reason. I just . . . felt like it."_

_That sobered Thor up a little bit. There were very few things Loki did because he 'felt like it.' Aside from the tricks he liked to play, there was always a motive behind his antics. Sometimes even those tricks had a driving force. That his brother would do something for no good reason confused Thor. But, then again, Loki confusing him was nothing new._

_"You just felt like getting drunk?"_

_"Yes. As I understand, it is a common practice among nearly every realm in existence."_

_Thor didn't know what to say. So he watched Loki create little creatures that glowed in the dark with his magic. Thor forgot that he meant to tell his brother not to use magic while drunk. He couldn't. Those shining green lights were enthralling. A warrior chased a crying wolf across the ceiling. Loki drank the last of the mead and then lay down on his back so that the entirety of the dark ceiling could be his canvas. Thor mimicked his position._

_Once, longer ago than it felt, Loki used to entertain like this during feasts so grand only the highest ranked among them would be able to attend. Out among the common people, they would pay to hear a retelling or get a transcript of the tales. Loki never minded that the servants would sell his stories. Or perhaps he did, and that was why they so often found themselves the butt of one of his pranks._

_There were no words to accompany the story Thor was watching now. If he was sober, Thor thought he would complain about that. But now, it didn't seem necessary. He needed only watch the shifting shapes to understand. They were nearing the end of the tale when Thor heard Loki softly humming a familiar tune that he couldn't quite name._

_"What are you singing?" he dared to interrupt._

_Loki didn't look at him but sang just loud enough for Thor to hear:_

"I had a comrade,  
and a better one you could not find.  
They beat on the drums to sound the battle,  
and he went by my side  
step for step at the same pace.

An arrow came flying:  
was it meant for me or you?  
It tore him away  
and he lay at my feet  
as if he were a part of me.

He still reaches out his hand to me,  
while I raise my sword.  
I cannot hold onto your hand.  
Rest you in Valhalla,  
My good comrade."

_Eventually – predictably – Loki fell asleep right there on the floor. Thor might not even have noticed if the lights he had been conjuring hadn't dimmed with his consciousness. The mead wasn't having quite the same effect on Thor as it was on Loki. Sleep was the last thing Thor wanted. They had been in the middle of a story when his brother drifted off. A part of Thor, the part that was usually dominant, wanted him to shake Loki until he woke up again so he could finish the story. Some other part of him advised against it. For whatever reason, Thor heeded this feeling._

_So instead of shaking his brother, Thor picked him up as if he were still a child and carried him back to his bedchamber. Loki didn't stir and Thor knew he wouldn't. Sweet sleep so often followed a night of heavy drinking. Thor set Loki down on his bed, whispered "happy birthday, brother," and left._

* * *

The gilded dining room is suddenly very bright. There is such a powerful glare that Thor's eyes sting and he closes them tight. He should not have come here; not to the dining room, not to the gardens. He should not have come back to Asgard at all! This is not his home anymore, and he does not belong here. These halls are not his. He wouldn't want them even if they were.

How can they bear it? How can living people go on as if everything is as it should be? Can they not hear it? Do they not feel it?

Thor certainly does. He feels every dead eye upon him in place of the ones that used to live. He feels the phantom laughter resonate through every fibre of his being. It is just around the corner of his eye; quiet enough for him to hear but not to listen. It's close enough for him to feel but never to touch. Thor is aware of all of this as keenly as he is aware of himself.

It makes him sick. He wishes it would leave. He thinks he could deal with that. To be rid of this and no longer left to wonder would be cold relief. This lingering is torture. That hopeful part of him won't be stomped out.

_Leave_ , he thinks. _Be gone from here!_

It would be stupid to speak aloud because there is no one here to hear it. He wonders if it will ever end.

_Come back. Come back only for a second, and I will never ask anything of you ever again. Come back and tell me it wasn't because of me. If you can hear me wherever you are, know that I never wanted it to be this way. If there ever is a day when we are together again, I will fall at your feet and never stop apologizing._

Thor gets to his feet and he runs as fast as he can. He is blinded by tears, but it's okay because he can walk this palace with his eyes closed and arrive hale and whole at his destination. And he knows where he's going. He knew he'd end up there the instant he stepped foot on the Bifröst. It was why he came here, after all.

When he reaches the hall, Thor drops his hands from his face. He has no right to hide his tears here. He should be afforded no privacy, no dignity. At the door, he hesitates only for a moment. But because he is a warrior, Thor doesn't let his turbulent emotions rule him. With a grip stronger than necessary, he opens the door.

Inside he is greeted by the sight of a messy study. It is achingly familiar. Where the rest of the royal family had dressed the antechambers of their rooms as comfortable waiting areas for guests, Loki had turned his into a study. After all this time the scent of his seidr still hung heavily in the air, residual. The walls are lined with shelves of books, most of them written by the owner, some not.

There are no stories written on any of those pages, Thor knows. The stories his brother told sprung straight from his mind to his tongue. And once he spoke it, he never forgot it. There was never any reason to write it down. It only would have made it easier for the servants to sell. (And Loki was not one to give things away without someone having to work for it first.)

Those books lining the walls are filled with theories instead. Or accounts of wars and battles. There are maps of Yggdrasil's smaller, lesser-known branches. None of it is personal. All of them are informational in the most unbiased way. Thor had read one of Loki's books once. It was after an extended battle with the dark elves. It had been most exciting to live but less so to read. Loki remembered everything with such detail that Thor found himself getting lost in them. The exciting tales of valour were lost amid the methodical and cold recounting. Those books are in stark contrast to the colourful stories Loki used to spin during feasts.

Thor recalls fondly how his brother earned the title God of Lies, though his only formal title laid claim to mischief. In the beginning, he earned the title because he knew when others told lies. It wasn't until much later that Loki grew into the moniker and became a liar himself.

Thor stops himself from continuing on that train of thought. Just because his brother was a liar, that didn't mean he was inherently bad. One could argue that all writers and artists are liars as well. There were plenty of awful people Thor has confronted in his long life that were undeniably evil but not liars. Loki lived in the shadows between right and wrong. He was never that easy to pin down.

He walks deeper into the study. The silence in the room feels heavy, as if it were a tangible thing. When Thor breathes, he thinks he can feel something clinging to the insides of his lungs on the exhale. It's like walking through a spider web or hearing someone call his name when he knows no one is there. The study echoes like an ancient cave. He thinks he might be trapped.

After a few circuits around the study (touching absolutely nothing), Thor comes to a halt before the door to the bedchamber. It is as plain and unrevealing as ever. He had always meant to ask about the jar of fireflies. On the other side of the door is the answer. Should he go in? Has he the right? Does he truly want to know? Could he handle it if he went in there and it was black as pitch? The endless not-knowing was painful but it was all he had. Could he give it up so easily after all this time?

* * *

_Open the door,_ a voice says. _Open it and there's no more wondering. Open it and you will have your answer. No more looking back. End it now._

He grips the handle. All at once his memories assault him. He remembers things too quickly. He is on a carousel that is moving too fast.

_"What are we doing here?" Thor asked._

_"It was the only place I could think of under the circumstances," Loki said._

_Eyes narrowed, Thor gripped Mjolnir tightly. "Then say what you need to say so that I may return to battle."_

_Loki inclined his head. "You will not win."_

_"You do not know that," Thor said._

_"I do. I spent time among them. I know."_

_"Then you waste my time. You telling me it is futile does nothing to stop me from fighting."_

_"I know that. Give it to me and I can stop it. All of it."_

_Thor shook his head in frustration. This was a waste of time. "You know I cannot. I will not."_

_"You know better than any living soul that I am a prideful creature. I am selfish and self-serving. I hold grudges. You yourself associated with a group called the Avengers. Allow me my vengeance. I have no side but my own, this is true. But in this case, my revenge would be to your advantage."_

_Thor didn't say anything. He stared at his once-brother. After a moment, Thor said, "We have been warring for years, centuries. Nearly half the population of Asgard has died. You have been gone and away. You have committed egregious crimes in the past, and you are a liar. Those who kill my people now were once your allies. And you would ask me to give to you a power that has the potential to undo realms."_

_"I would ask you to let me put an end to the war that has ravaged your home world. I would ask you to allow me to give my attackers their comeuppance. I asked you once to trust my rage," Loki said. "I am asking you to do so again."_

_Despite the millennium that had gone by, Thor felt as if no time had passed since they last stood face to face. There was something different though. It was small but tangible. He stared down his part-time enemy. The man before him looked and sounded just like the brother Thor once had; the brother that fell to his death off the edge of a shattered bridge. Alas, Thor was never as keen as Loki, so he couldn't figure out what had changed._

_What he knew for sure, though, was that this war needed to be stopped at any cost._

_Staring into those mischievous eyes, daring them to betray him, Thor said, "I do none of this for you. I only consent because I cannot have another soul lost to this damnable war. What do you require of me?"_

_"Nothing," Loki said with haste. "Stay here."_

_"I will not stay here while there is still a battle going on!" he shouted indignantly._

_"When I go to them, there must not be anyone around. I will get them as far away from your forces as possible. A fate far worse than death will befall any who are near. You must stay here. Once it is done, the realms will need a leader to put things back together. One thousand years of war cannot be so easily undone."_

_"I will not cower while there are people dying!"_

_"You are not cowering! You are waiting all of five minutes until I can end them!" Loki said impatiently. "If you ever loved me as your brother, Thor, you will stay here until it is over. You will not go and risk the future just so that you may see the bloody end of an already-bloody war!"_

_Thor hardly recognized the person speaking to him. For some reason, he nodded mutely. Before he recovered his words, Loki was gone. Just like that. Disappeared. More than a millennium apart and he was gone again. The first thought Thor had was that this was all a dream. And then he figured that Loki was just jerking his chain, rattling him so that they'd be disadvantaged during the battle. Loki hadn't even asked how to access the cage!_

_It didn't occur to Thor until after he saw the sky explode in fantastic colours that Loki could have taken it any time. He could have stolen all that power and did whatever he desired. But he hadn't. He had come to Thor speaking of revenge. Only now did Thor realize that Loki wasn't asking for that; he could have taken it for himself and had that whenever he wanted. He had come to ask for permission. He had come to ask Thor to trust him one more time. Loki had come to ask for reconciliation, for an absolution._

_The sky burned light-years above Thor._

* * *

spinning and spinning and never ceasing

_a hidden knife sliding between his ribs_

trying to move forward but going backwards because he can only turn in circles

_conversations held with a force field separating them_

rotating faster and faster and pulling him down with the vortex

_dead bodies with too-familiar daggers lodged in their chests_

the singularity taking absolutely everything in and letting nothing leave

_tortured eyes falling_

remembrances from a different life blur before him

_Loki's face illuminated by the light of fireflies_

laughter echoing in his ears

_two brothers drinking for the first time beside a riverbank_

emotion so strong building in his chest and threatening to choke him

_a child working himself to unconsciousness to rescue his brother and friends_

volume rising so quickly that something has to give

_smile cracking open to release a scream_

* * *

It all comes crashing to a stop in a second. Thor's forehead rests on the door to the bedchamber, eyes shut. For a long time the only thing he does is breathe. The world is titling around him the same way it does when his body re-establishes equilibrium after traveling via Bifröst.

Roughly, a sob scratches clear of his throat. If he doesn't know, he can still cling to the possibility, to the hope.

As his hand falls from the doorknob, Thor thinks, _Rest you in Valhalla, my good comrade_.

Out in the garden the wind whispers through the leaves and the fireflies glow.


End file.
